


Masks

by coolknives



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Azran Legacy Spoilers, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, yet another self-indulgent vent fic from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 11:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11668347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolknives/pseuds/coolknives
Summary: Not sure how far Desmond can go in a relationship after what happened to his previous family, he still manages to make a step to recovery.





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

> here i am again with my vent writings. this particular fic was inspired by a post which made me sad – it was talking about the importance of the glasses to Desmond. at the time i was really sad enough without it, so… i just went and wrote it. vincent is also expressing some of his… less pleasant traits, but he's trying to recover from his own stuff.  
> again, thanks my dear friend PuzzleBot for proofreading this! enjoy if you'd like! thanks for reading, if you do

“No, wait…”

Desmond hesitated. As comfortable as he was in the other man’s hold now, he couldn’t do this. Not yet.

“Please, don’t take them off… _Anything_ but them,” he pleaded quietly, grasping his glasses with one hand, almost pushing them into his own face. Looking down at his own knees, he let out a heavy breath, a slight blush of embarrassment for interrupting the moment still giving his face colour.

Vincent couldn’t do anything aside from stare at Desmond with confusion. Yes, glasses meant a lot to him as well, but he was fine with taking them off for now… Why wasn’t the other man? Perhaps that was something way too personal to question, but Vincent couldn’t help his curiosity.

“What’s wrong, Desmond…? Is your eyesight that bad?” He asked, realizing a second later that he put it way too bluntly, “I-I mean… Are you alright…?”

“My eyesight’s just fine.” Desmond shook his head, then slowly pulled himself away from Vincent’s hold, slumping on the sofa they were initially on. Maintaining his act would indeed feel very nice, but as soon as his glasses were gone… The man couldn’t keep to the role anymore. The role of Desmond Sycamore, the eccentric archaeologist, and the cosy lover with the gentle hugs… Who was the man behind those glasses?

“Vincent, can you tell me something?” He asked, looking up at Vincent’s already anxiety-filled face, “Don’t- Don’t worry, please- Here,” The look in his single functioning eye was unbearable enough to break through the wall the man had attempted to build between them. He took Vincent’s hand.

“What is it…?” Vincent squeezed the other’s hand, shaking terror in his voice. Was this about him? Or was this about his sweetheart’s internal struggles? The change in the man’s behaviour, the way he just withdrew and could only reach out with his hand… But it wasn’t what provoked the most anxiety.

“Who am I, Vincent…?” ‘Desmond’ made a face full of anguish, not sure if that was an act or a sincere expression of his emotions, “Who do you think is… Behind those glasses? Whose eyes…? What kind of person would have _these_ eyes…?!”

The question startled Vincent, so he fell silent for a moment that seemed to last forever, staring at their hands, surprised they still were connected. He didn’t even have an answer for the man… For Vincent, Desmond without glasses was just that – Desmond without glasses. Still beautiful, still full of warm love, still soft… But he slowly realized that it perhaps wasn’t actually true.

“… Do you love me?” He asked, his voice becoming stone cold, “If you want to leave, you can just…”

“No…! Vincent, please, listen…” The man pleaded again; the glasses still were on, so he could continue acting, even if it already started to crumble, “… I don’t know, yes? I don’t want to leave, but… None of my feelings for you are certain. I’m sorry…”

“ _You_ are…” Vincent’s voice gathered more and more aggression with each moment, “You know, I have no idea who you are. You’re just another pretty face who will play with me and then leve me. You don’t know who I am either.”

The other man gasped at the suddenly escalated aggression; they had spent several days together in perfect peace, and once he decided to invite Vincent over for a night… He knew this would happen. Clearly, who would even talk about love when the two spent time together outside and enjoyed each other’s company… He didn’t know how much of it was an act from his side. He didn’t know if any of it was an act. He didn’t know… Taking a deep breath, he took the glasses off, absolute emotional agony on his face. He was exposed to these raw emotions, letting them stab him in the back after years of waiting and aiming… Letting out a choked sob, he felt himself collapsing on the floor. Unable to watch this unfold with a cold stare, Vincent quickly caught the man, before he slid from the sofa, and carefully placed him back.

“Dessie… We might not entirely know who we are…” Vincent said quietly as he found Desmond’s glasses and carefully placed them on the other man’s face, “But we’re _human_ , right? To some degree…”

Desmond nodded slowly, his vacant, exhausted gaze following Vincent’s eye, “I felt like I’d torn my skin apart, and nothing was there… Nothing was inside – I’m _hollow_ , Vincent… A hollow human being.”

Realizing that the issue was deeper than Vincent could imagine, he bit his lip, averting his eyes in utter shame for getting angry at the man, “I’m- I’m sorry-“

“Don’t apologize,” Desmond sighed, his voice cracking and giving away the terror that still was filling him, “I should be the one to do so… I should just keep up my act, and nothing will ever go wrong…”

“No…!” Shaking his head, Vincent quietly protested, “The longer you refuse to look into yourself, the scarier it will be to face yourself in the end… But please… Take your time.”

Despite his voice being full of protest, and words sounding like they were having an argument, Vincent’s voice was… Comforting. It soothed the man, like a lullaby, and made these seemingly scary emotions dance around him beautifully instead of stabbing him.

“Take your time figuring out who you are… I believe, that… No matter who you end up being, I will- I will be there for you,” Vincent comforted, his voice softer and apologetic; his own insecurities got the best of him again.

Tears welled up in Desmond’s eyes, behind the precious red-rimmed glasses that were hiding his feelings, and one stray tear rolled down his cheek. He knew that today he felt something sincerely, with his own heart, instead of pretending that he did… He knew that this was a beginning to a future where he was emotionally connected with himself and others… Vincent still was holding his hand, and Desmond grasped it like a lifeline, moving closer and whispering, sinking into the hold entirely.

“Please, don’t leave me, Vincent…”


End file.
